


TAG to Episode 7.22 (Waimaka 'ele'ele)

by AmandaMalinLavada



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 15:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaMalinLavada/pseuds/AmandaMalinLavada
Summary: A short story for episode 7.22 of Hawaii Five-0.





	TAG to Episode 7.22 (Waimaka 'ele'ele)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! After almost an entire year of neglecting this account, my writing has come out of "retirement". I just couldn't resist, because while 7.22 was an amazing and really emotional episode, I missed some comfort for poor Steve. This is also the first time I'm attempting to write slash. We'll see how that goes!
> 
> A HUGE thank you goes to Iby (imaginary_iby). She helped me a lot with this and trust her to find even the tiniest details that don't add up. Iby, you are AMAZING!

The concussive force of the explosion slams into Steve’s back like an unyielding wall of concrete. Heat is licking at his exposed skin as he is thrown forward and over the edge of the roof. The grassy ground is rushing up to meet him and he prepares his body for the jarring impact he knows is coming.

As soon as he makes contact with the hard ground, he rolls. It prevents his bones from breaking and his head from smashing into the ground, but it is his right shoulder that takes the brunt of the impact and it hurts. He rolls over one more time before he comes to a halt on his stomach. His rifle is still clutched in his right hand when he throws both arms up and shields his head and neck from the debris that is raining down on him like scorching raindrops. People yell and shout around him, but the voices are muffled and sound far away. His ears are ringing.

When Steve is sure that no piece of wood or metal is about to impale his body, he lifts his head and looks around. His vision is a little blurred, but he blinks twice and the world is back in laser sharp focus. He pushes himself off the ground with a grunt and narrows his eyes at the retreating form of the person responsible for almost getting his entire team and HPD blown up. With a newfound surge of energy and adrenalin, he pushes to his feet and gives chase.

 

The withered leaves crunch under his boots as he picks his way through the dense foliage of the forest. There’s no sound except the chirping of birds and his own heavy breathing. He does not know for sure where Nicholas Rider went, but he follows his gut. He cannot let him get away. It is simply not an option.

His skin prickles when he approaches a clearing with what looks like an abandoned shed. The shed is dilapidated and rotten wood is lying everywhere, along with dirty buckets, rusty barrels and empty wooden boxes. He knows that Rider is around here somewhere. He _feels_ it.

The first shot fired almost hits Steve in the left shoulder. He hears the bullets ping loudly against the metal sheet next to him as he scrambles to find cover behind a pile of brittle wood and metal. He crouches down, checks his rifle and trains it toward Rider’s position. Getting up, he shoots.

No shot hits its mark and Steve has to dive down again to avoid getting hit by one of the powerful shots coming his way. He flinches when a bullet whizzes past his left side and gets embedded in the box behind him. He readies himself to give counter fire and once again leaves the safety of his cover. After firing a few rounds, he expects more bullets to come his way, but nothing happens. It is quiet. Too quiet.

Something is up, because Steve knows he has not hit his target yet. He is uneasy and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His skin crawls with the illusion of someone watching him.

Cautiously, he leaves the security his cover provides and creeps forward, eyes still fixed on Rider’s last known location. There is no movement. Adrenalin is thrumming through his veins as he allows his eyes to wander. Rider has got to be here.

There is one split second when he sees the burst of light from a fired gun before something punches him in the chest. Center mass. No amount of training can prevent him from getting knocked off his feet and landing hard on his back on the dirty ground. He struggles to breathe, unable to suck in air. He knows that the bullet has not penetrated his vest, but the pain is excruciating. There’s no time to focus on the agony in his chest. Not when Rider is still a threat. Pushing the throbbing down, he forces his right hand to inch closer to his thigh holster. He keeps his eyes closed as he opens the latch that keeps his Sig Sauer and listens to Rider’s approaching footsteps. He is coming closer, either to make sure he is dead or to finish the job.

Readying himself for the pain he knows is coming, Steve inhales as deeply as possible before he lurches up, fires his handgun and puts a bullet through Rider’s skull. He drops like a stone. He does not move after that.

Pressing a lightly trembling hand to his chest, Steve forces his body into a sitting position. His ribs protest loudly and his head swims momentarily when he struggles to sit up. He grunts when pain explodes in his chest, but he pushes through it. He still has to make sure Rider is dead. Some of these bastards are like cockroaches—Unable to die.

Gritting his teeth, Steve pushes to his feet. He stumbles, temporarily losing his balance before he manages to lock his knees and stay upright. He is dizzy and nauseous and pain burns hot and alive inside his chest. He grimaces. He needs a moment to center himself. Bending over, he leans on his left knee and breathes in and out through his mouth, before he presses his hand to his chest again, willing the pain to abate. A cold sweat breaks out on his brow.

Forcing his rubbery legs to move forward, Steve approaches Rider’s still form guardedly. Blood is pouring from a wound on the man’s forehead and it is clear that the bullet has ended his life. Still, Steve remains cautious as he extracts the rifle from Rider’s hands. He is still staring at the dead man’s face when he hears someone call out to him.

Steve steps over the lifeless body of Rider and follows the sound of approaching footsteps. He is slowly getting his breathing back under control and is able to move without his ribs screaming. His chest and stomach are still going to be the canvas for an impressive bruise in a few hours, but he can work with that. There is at most a broken rib, so at least he is not dealing with a life-threatening injury.

When he lays eyes on his team, Steve lifts up Rider’s weapon and shouts, “Clear.” He is relieved to see that every member of his team seems to have escaped the explosion in one piece.

“Is that Rider’s gun?” Danny asks, waving a hand at the rifle Steve is carrying.

Setting the weapon down on top of an old barrel, Steve nods and points a finger at the dead man on the ground. “Yeah, and that’s Rider.”

An unexpected wave of dizziness surprises Steve and he has to briefly lean against the barrel. He thinks about taking the vest off, but decides against it. Instead, he reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out his jackknife. He listens to Lou and Chin talk about the causalities of the explosion and the loss of evidence while he flips it open. Out of the corners of his eye, he sees Danny sit down on the edge of a large pot and he wonders if his partner was hurt in the explosion without anyone noticing. He makes a mental note to check later.

When he realizes that his team is waiting for him to come up with a new plan of action, he starts talking, simultaneously trying to dislodge the bullet Rider has fired into his chest. “All right. Well, we’re gonna need to figure out who he’s worked with in Afghanistan,” he says and winces when freeing the bullet causes discomfort. “I’m thinking whoever that is, that’s who he was doing the jobs with here.”

“Okay, well, that’s where we have a problem, because the security firm that he worked for, Paladin, was dissolved after the DOD canceled their contract. I reached out to them, but they wouldn’t talk to me. They said that the case is under review and the files are classified,” Kono points out.

Steve listens to every word she says, immediately working on a way around that. He sighs when he finally manages to pluck the disfigured projectile from his now ruined vest. He glares at it, oblivious to his team’s looks, before he tosses it onto the barrel and grabs Rider’s rifle. “All right, well… we’re gonna have to get them declassified,” he says and walks away. He catches Danny’s eye and sees him shake his head. Walking over to his partner, Steve looks him over. “Are you okay?”

Danny points at his chest with raised eyebrows. “Am _I_ okay?” He repeats, then makes a sharp movement with his hands. “Yes, I am okay! You are the one who just dug a bullet out of his vest!”

Not injured then, Steve thinks with great relief. “Okay, just checking.” He smirks and walks away.

 

There is not much Five-0 can do as long as the files are classified, so Steve sends everyone home when the clock hits five. He is just about to shut down his own computer, when someone knocks on the glass door to his office. He looks up and sees his partner enter.

“So, uh, how are the ribs?” Danny asks as he waves a hand at the general direction of Steve’s body.

Steve instinctively brushes his fingers over the sore spot under his sternum. The bruise is already turning a bright shade of purple. “I’m okay.”

“Not what I asked.”

Sighing, Steve pushes the lid of his laptop closed and leans back in his leather chair. “Three cracked ribs. One may be broken,” he admits. There is no benefit of lying to Danny, because Danny knows him. And he also knows about the damage a bullet can cause, even if it did not go through the vest.

“And you don’t think you should get that checked out by a professional? With your new liver and all?” Danny crosses his arms over his chest and sits down onto the armrest of one of the chairs in front of Steve desks.

“The liver is fine,” Steve grunts in response.

“Is that your professional assessment, Doctor McGarrett? Oh, wait. You’re not a doctor!” Danny says loudly and throws his hands up.

Getting up from his chair, Steve rounds the desk. He squirms his way between Danny’s legs and puts both of his palms on his partner’s stubbly cheeks. “Danny,” he says quietly. “I am fine. Does it hurt? Yes. But it’ll heal. Okay?” He asks, lips ghosting over Danny’s.

Danny blows out a breath. His arms are sneaking around Steve’s waist and pulling him even closer. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

The moment Steve sees that Lee Campbell is fleeing the scene of the shootout, he switches his rifle to his handgun and gives chase. The gunfight in the middle of the street is still in full swing, but he knows that his team and SWAT can handle things. Campbell is his top priority now.

Steve walks down a narrow passageway between two buildings, which opens up into a wide back alley. There is a small restaurant with a patio to his left and a couple of fruit stands to his right. But there is no trace of Campbell. Looking around with his gun raised, Steve tries to figure out which way the man has gone.

Suddenly, a heavy weight barrels into him from the left and he crashes into the table loaded with fruit. He doesn’t have enough time to prepare himself, and the fall that follows is uncoordinated and hard. His world momentarily blacks out when the back of his head bounces off the solid concrete. The weight – Campbell – is already getting up again and Steve cannot allow him to gain the upper hand.

Still holding his head, Steve rolls to his feet with a grunt. He is dizzy and the world spins and dips around him, yet he manages to get in the first punch. It does not take long for Campbell to hit back, though, punching Steve in the jaw and jarring his already aching head. Two more hits to the face follow and Steve is dazed, unsteady on his feet. Campbell cruelly seizes the opportunity. He roughly grabs Steve by the neck and thrusts him through a large glass door. All Steve can do is curl in on himself and protect his face. Sharp pieces of glass are digging into his back and razor-sharp shards are slicing through the exposed skin of his arms and neck.

He does not have time to recover. Before he can gather enough equilibrium to get back to his knees, a boot connects with his face. The force behind the kick sends him sprawling and blood spurts from his nose and mouth. The coppery taste that fills his mouth almost makes him gag. Coughing, he pushes himself off the bare concrete flooring. Black dots are starting to cloud his field of vision and breathing is becoming more difficult.

He hears rustling behind him and suddenly, something is covering his eyes, nose and mouth and he is completely unable to breathe. Suffocation. Campbell is trying to suffocate him! Struggling wildly against the plastic tarp over his head, Steve tries to pull it away from his face. But Campbell is too strong.

Somehow, miraculously, Steve makes it to his feet. He stumbles blindly, cannot see anything. He is pushed up against a wall and the plastic around his neck gets pulled tighter. He does not have much time left. Campbell lands a few hard punches to Steve’s unprotected lower back, right to the kidneys. The pain is agonizing and the intensity of it almost causes Steve’s legs to fold. But he cannot let that happen. Gathering his strength, he puts one foot against the wall and pushes off, succeeding in throwing Campbell off balance. They both tumble into a stack of empty barrels and Steve is finally able to rip the plastic tarp off his head. He gulps in a greedy breath of air.

A hit to the side of the head makes Steve remember that the threat is still present. Campbell sits on top of him, leaning on his chest and battering his face over and over again. It hurts badly. His cracked and broken ribs are screaming in agony and he tastes bile in the back of his throat. He swallows and dodges the next punch, grabbing the fist that is flying his way. Twisting the limb, he manages to throw Campbell off, before scrabbling to his knees. A sudden elbow to the face makes him see stars again.

When his vision clears, he sees Campbell crawl away. His goal is a nearby pipe. As soon as his fingers wrap around the piece of metal, he stands up to swing it at Steve. This time, Steve is quicker. He kicks out and Campbell stumbles, but does not let go of his weapon of choice. Campbell swings it again, only narrowly missing Steve’s head when he ducks down. Campbell is a strong and worthy opponent and Steve is aware that he needs to put everything he has got left into this fight. If he does not, he is going to lose his life.

Two well-placed punches to the ribs, another one to the jaw and a knee to the stomach. Steve hears Campbell grunt and feels a newfound surge of energy. He tries to grab him again, but Campbell suddenly attacks with the pipe, ramming it into Steve’s lower back. The explosion of white-hot pain robs Steve’s breath. He is not aware of anything else but the pain his back, which wraps around his middle and almost immobilizes him. He finds himself on all fours with the pipe pressed tightly against his neck. He tries to dislodge Campbell’s fingers, but his opponent is too strong. His fingers keep slipping.

Eventually, with his options running out, Steve flings his elbow back and rams it into Campbell’s gut. He grips the man’s arm, pulls it over his shoulder and breaks it with a sickening crunch. Campbell screams in pain. Steve does not give him time to recover. He stands up, wobbling unsteadily in place, and grabs Campbell’s arm once more. With one last rush of energy, he throws the man over his shoulder and down on top of a pile of trash. A vertical metal pole impales Campbell’s body instantly. Steve drops to his knees next to Campbell and stares wide-eyed and panting at the pole. It’s a gruesome sight, but Steve cannot tear his gaze away from it. He watches Lee Campbell suck in breath after painful breath until he stops altogether and the light goes out in his eyes.

Steve keeps staring at the unseeing eyes of the man that lies before him, is unable to tear his gaze away. His body is almost numb and his mind feels disconnected to the rest of his being. His field of vision keeps blurring in and out of focus and his limbs are starting to shake. _He_ is starting to shake. Dropping back on his haunches, Steve realizes how close he had come to dying. That awareness robs him of the last remaining drop of energy he has left. Unable to stay upright any longer, he collapses. He has nothing more to give.

 

The muffled shouting of his name pulls him out of his muddled daze. His eyes must have slipped shut. He realizes that he is still lying on his back on the cold, hard ground. He is suddenly aware of the heavy scent of blood all around him and his stomach turns. He can smell _death_. He barely manages to sits up and turn to his side before he is throwing up. The retching awakens aches and pains all over his body and when he is done emptying his stomach, he is trembling and covered in cold sweat.

Suddenly, a warm hand settles on his bare arm. “Steve,” a familiar voice says. Even though the pain is now all-consuming and raw, Steve can hear the heavy concern in the person’s voice. He turns his head and blinks at the blurry form of his partner.

“Danny…” Steve rasps. His own voice is hoarse. Throat dry and lips chapped.

“Steve, babe, are you okay? Are you all right?” Danny sounds frantic. His eyes are roaming all over Steve’s frame, taking in the various cuts and bruises. He puts a hand on Steve’s bloody cheek, pulling him closer and tucking him securely against his chest.

Steve lets his weary body give into the comfort. He lets go and collapses against Danny’s warm body, allowing his partner to shield him from the outside world. His eyes flutter closed as he listens to Danny’s call for help.

“Guys, over here! Steve, listen to me. You need to go to a hospital. You are throwing up blood,” Danny explains. He tries to sound calm and collected, but Steve can hear the underlying panic. Danny suddenly taps his cheek. “Steve, can you hear me?”

Steve nods faintly. He does not have the energy to do more. He has trouble tracking his partner’s words and he does not know exactly what he was just told, but he trusts Danny and his decisions.

“It’s going to be okay,” Danny murmurs into his ear. One of his hands cups the back of Steve’s head and he holds it safely against his chest. “You’re going to be fine.”

Steve is listening to Danny’s soft voice as he loses his grip on consciousness.

* * *

There is a weight on his hand. Something is holding him down. No, _someone_ is holding him down. The weight is warm and familiar, and it gives Steve a sense of comfort. He allows his body to bask in that blissful state. He almost slips back to sleep when he hears a faint beeping. It confuses him. It is a foreign sound that does not belong. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Light blinds him and he groans, slamming his eyelids shut again. His head feels like it is about to explode.

The weight on his hand moves. One moment it is there, the next it is gone. He finds himself missing that contact more than anything. It is like someone has taken away his oxygen. Memories of the fight with Campbell assault him. He remembers the fight until death, the pain and the man’s lifeless eyes that had stared back at him. He remembers the overwhelming shock and exhaustion he had felt. He tries to block everything out, but he feels hazy, drugged to the gills, and it makes it harder to fight against his demons.

“Steve, you need to relax. I turned the lights off.” The soft voice is like a light at the end of the tunnel. Like a lifeline. He latches onto it and uses all his mental strength to pull himself out of the dark hole he is stuck in. A hand starts rubbing his chest and soft lips are pressed against his temple. “Everything is okay. I’m here.”

“Danny,” Steve mumbles quietly. Despite the pain, he opens his eyes again. He needs to see his partner. He is surprised to find the room in almost complete darkness now. Light is filtering in from outside, but it is not enough to hurt him. Rolling his head on the pillow, he suddenly stares into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. He smiles. “Danny.”

“Yep,” Danny says and smiles as well. He looks tired, like he has not slept in days. His hair is unkempt and his cheeks are stubblier than Steve remembers them to be. He want to ask about it, but Danny beats him to it, “How are you feeling?”

Steve blinks. For the first time since he has woken up he realizes that he is not in his own bed. Or in Danny’s, for that matter. He looks around, squinting. “I’m at the hospital?” He asks and suddenly the invasive beeping makes sense. It is a heart monitor.

Danny does not answer right away and Steve turns to look at him. There is an expression of worry on his partner’s face and Steve wonders if he has said something wrong. Danny is reaching for his hand then. “Babe. Do you remember our last case? Do you remember the fight with Lee Campbell?” The fight. Right. Steve nods. “He beat you up pretty good. But you are going to be fine.”

Nodding again, Steve attempts to shift a little on the mattress. He needs to know how much his body has been compromised. The sharp pain that attacks his midsection is unbearable. He gasps and clutches his stomach. Looking up, he stares into Danny’s face with wide eyes. “The liver… Did I… Did I break the liver?”

Danny snorts. “No. You did not break the liver,” he assures him as he helps him to get more comfortable. “The pain you’re feeling is from your kidneys. You had surgery to repair a small tear in the left one.”

Frowning, Steve looks down at his gown-covered body. “What else?”

Danny sighs heavily. “Do you want me to start it alphabetically or graded due to seriousness?” The joke falls flat, because Danny’s eyes are filled with concern and fear. He sighs again. “You have a grade two concussion, a bruised jaw, three broken ribs, a sprained right wrist and cuts and bruises all over your body.”

It takes Steve’s concussed brain a few moments to comprehend all of it. He shifts again, this time trying not to aggravate his injured kidney. The pain is not that bad. “What day is it? When can I leave?”

“I’m sorry. _Leave_?” Danny almost stumbles over the words. “Did you hear what I just said? You had surgery on one of your organs! _Again_! You’re battered from top to bottom and all you can think about is how to get out of here? You are unbelievable!”

 

Steve winces at the increasing volume of Danny’s voice. It is echoing inside his pounding skull. Danny seems to notice. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice soft again. “You had me worried sick. I never want to find you like that again, you understand? You were barely conscious and throwing up blood. I thought you were dying.”

Steve makes his hand move and wraps his fingers around Danny’s wrist. “But I didn’t.”

Danny snorts. He covers Steve’s hand with his own and squeezes. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job at trying.”

Steve cannot help but smile a little as well. “I’m sorry.”

“You are forgiven. But only if you keep your pretty butt in this hospital bed without argument.”

“I can’t,” Steve protests again. “I have to go.”

Danny shakes his head desperately. “Where are you even trying to go? The case is over. There is nothing more to do.”

Steve swallows. “Leonard Patterson. His funeral is today. I have to be there.”

“Steve—“

“No. I have to be there.”

 

Twenty hours later, Steve is standing on the dock at Pearl Harbor, staring across the water at the Arizona Memorial. Leonard Patterson’s memorial service had been beautiful. He had been given the respect and honor he deserved for everything he had done.

Steve is still gazing at the white memorial, when he hears footsteps. He knows who it is. “Are you ready to head home?” Danny asks as he appears in Steve’s peripheral vision.

“Yeah,” Steve replies with one sharp nod. He is hot. The sun is beating down on them relentlessly and Steve feels sweat pool at the base of his spine. The heat is smothering.

When he turns to follow his partner back to the car, a wave of dizziness crashes into him and he stumbles. His knees momentarily refuse to lock and he already sees himself face down on the concrete.

But the impact never comes. Instead, a pair of strong arms encircles his waist and he is held upright. “Breathe, babe. Just breathe.”

Steve hangs his head and listens to Danny’s words. The concussion, paired with the medication he is taking and the stifling heat is messing with his system. “I’m okay,” he mumbles and tries to take some of his own weight again.

Danny’s hand remains on his back. “Let’s go home,” Danny says and gently nudges him forward.

Steve keeps his head down and just focuses on putting one foot in front of the other. When they finally reach the black Camaro parked in the shade, Danny opens the passenger door and Steve climbs in without comment. He takes his hat off and rubs at his tired eyes.

Steve does not realize that Danny has left him alone in the car until a cold water bottle is pressed into his hands.

“Drink. Slowly,” Danny commands.

Steve hears him fumble with something and a few seconds later, a pair of dark sunglasses appear in his line of sight.

“And put these on.”

Steve accepts both items gratefully. He slips the sunglasses on and sips the chilled water.

When they step through the front door of Steve’s house a little while later, Steve can barely keep his legs from buckling. He is beyond exhausted. “I’m going to lie down.”

Danny closes and locks the door before he steps up to Steve, right into his personal space, and puts a hand on the side of Steve’s neck. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I… I’m fine.”

Danny leans up to softly kiss Steve. “No, you’re not. But you will be.”

“Yeah…”

Danny’s hand slips from Steve’s neck down his arm until he can grab his hand. “Do you want me to come with you? I could use a nap as well. Been a tough couple of days.”

Smiling, Steve nods. “I would like that.”

 

Later, they both lie in bed. Steve’s head is cushioned on his partner’s chest and Danny is drawing circles onto Steve’s bare back with his fingertips. Steve enjoys the feather light contact and it almost lulls him to sleep.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Danny says suddenly into the silence.

Steve shifts closer to Danny. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

Lifting his head, Steve looks into Danny’s blue eyes. “You’re right. I don’t. But I will always fight with everything I have to come back to you. I promise.”

Danny smiles. He tightens his arms around Steve and presses a kiss to his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay. I can live with that.”

“Good,” Steve says and settles back down. A soft smile is on his lips as he slowly drifts off toward sleep. As long as Danny is right here waiting for him, he will never give up. Come heaven or hell, he is going to battle through, because he knows just how much he has to live for.

**The End**


End file.
